


The Ties That Bind

by VirginiaPendragon



Category: Backstreet Boys, Pop Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 10:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18009599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirginiaPendragon/pseuds/VirginiaPendragon
Summary: © 2007





	The Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> © 2007

                         

 

  

" **THE** **TIES** **THAT** **BIND** "

**i.**

_'...when I'm feeling too much and I start to lose control, when I'm down so low that even enemies don't wanna know, you still care for me...'_

 

  
Sometimes, you would find them both asleep on the small, threadbare couch. One night, the end credits for _The Goonies_ were still rolling, their glow almost reverent in the darkness of the tour bus. With popcorns tangled in his scattered golden bangs, Nick was drooling all over the right side of Kevin's plain white t-shirt, his head sleep-heavy on the curve of the then taller man's waist. Nick looked more peaceful to you than he had in... you don't know how long exactly; you didn’t try to remember, either, because it's gratuitous pain like that that makes you question even your cheerful, wink-y self on occasion.

 

Nah, you have never felt  _that_ way about your little 'Nicky'; that much is positive. But you can see why Kevin would.

 

Why Kevin does.

 

That night, you switched the television off, headed over to your bunk and climbed tiredly but happily into it; and it didn’t take long for AJ's light snoring to lull you to sleep, too, despite the dingy bus catching every possible bump on the road to Millersburg, in that place you would fondly refer to as  _'No Fan Land'_.

 

  
**ii.**

_'...how your hair falls in front of your face, while you try to keep it up... I've always paid attention to your POV, but now I wanna focus on the rest of you...'_

 

  
High School gyms and pimpled faces, shy freshmen and bold cheerleaders, they all easily blurred during those mid-1990s weeks of exhausting touring, and, much to your discomfort, it was not long before you were forced to fill the uncomfortable shoes of the peacemaker once again.

 

It has always been especially challenging for you when it’s Nick and Kevin who are fighting - namely, eight times out of ten – because while you have always been able to relate to Kevin's frustrations when it comes to your youngest brother better than anyone else in your special family, you could never help the urge to protect him that Nick has stirred in you since day one. Since even before you were in Backstreet.

 

So you were slightly relieved when you realized the middle-aged woman standing in front of the three of you in the small elevator was, if not oblivious to the argument that was seething behind her back, at least clueless to who you were and what exactly was being said.

 

A sense of gratitude for the fact that you were in Italy pervaded you.

 

But your feeling was short-lived. Kevin pushing Nick into the room they were sharing and fiercely slamming the door shut after you saw to that.

 

'What do you think you're doing?!' He hissed.

 

'Having fun for the two of us, clearly. Seeing how you're so busy being too much of a geezer to do that yourself and all. Geez, man, give me a *fucking* break!' The one who replied before jerking his arm out of Kevin's angry grip was a Nick at his brattiest.

 

'See, Nick, despite what you may think, this is not even about you possibly hurting yourself in more ways than one. It's about you being too selfish to even *wonder* how your immaturity might affect the whole group.'

 

'Are you done lecturing me, Mr. Let's-blame-stupid-little-Nick-for-doing-what-I'm-too-chickenshit-to-do-myself?!'

 

Kevin's tense neck, if nothing else, gave away how upset he really was getting.

 

'Hey, it's not my fault that you're a fucking closeted loser, okay?!' _Just great, Nick._ And that was really all you had time to think before Kevin's hand left a throbbing red mark on the blonde's flabbergasted face.

 

You immediately stood between the two of them, your back to your younger friend. 'KEVIN!!’

 

You turned around and it was now Nick's Adam's apple that was bobbing furiously, his eyes darkening and growing bigger by the second with helpless shock and incredulous hurt. He was trying to hold back the tears, that much you could tell, only not quite succeeding.

 

You would have been madder at Kevin if you had not known he was possibly even more devastated than Nick by what he had just done.

 

Nick stormed out of the room and you found him four minutes later – ever so thankful that AJ was sharing with Brian that week – in your room, his sobbing lanky form balled up on a dark blue armchair.

 

'Nicky--'

 

'Can I sleep in here?' The exhaustion in his tears-soaked voice convinced you to postpone the conversation you had been rehearsing in your mind once out of Kevin’s room.

 

'Of course you can.' You made sure he was bedded down and sound asleep before you were back two doors down, waiting for Kevin to get out of what felt like the most excruciatingly angsty shower in history since  _Psycho_.

 

When he finally – so very quietly – did, he found you leaning against the closed door, pinching your nose right between your closed eyes; under other circumstances, he would not have missed the chance to crack a lame joke about your equine narcoleptic tendencies. That night, though, he simply stood there and swallowed when you met the green in his eyes, which – you could not help noticing – had taken on a sort of opaque quality, one that made you think of partly sun-burned grass.

 

It could have been your very own fatigue driving you, but you deemed straightforwardness precious at that very moment, which is why you started off with a simple, 'I know how you're always concerned about the welfare of the group, bro, and, believe me, we all appreciate it more than you'll ever know… but forgive me if I think what you just told Nicky is bullshit. And you know it, too.'

 

'What do you mean?'

 

'I ca-- I *don't want* to believe you just scared the hell out of Nick' – and Kevin winced at that - 'just to make a point, no matter how good it was. Not even *you* are that stuck up.' You offered a timid grin to take the sting off the words, but it fell on blind eyes. 

 

'Um, hello?? He's the one who just called me a loser, in case you missed that chapter!' Fire was back in Kevin's eyes, and it did not upset you nearly as much as the bashful helplessness you had found in them only two minutes earlier. So much so that you were almost grateful for it.

 

'So? For heaven's sake, Kev, he was shit-faced! He's still a sixteen-year-old boy, you know? And not your average sixteen-year-old boy, at that.' You started to pace back and forth and your face grew more serious with every step you took. 'You *have to* know he didn't really mean it. He adores you. He looks up to you more than he does his own parents!' You hoped he would not mistake the truth of your statement for condescendence; because it was not.

 

Kevin sighed and that was your clue to get to your point. 'When are you going to tell him?'

 

  
Suddenly, a cloudy day from almost one year earlier flashed back into your mind. You were in England for the Smash Hits Roadshow; you, AJ and Brian had opted for an afternoon of shopping all over the place, Kevin on doing some sightseeing, too; with Nick. 

 

Later the same day, over the buffet you were standing at, Kevin told you a short, wavy-haired girl - no older than fourteen - had cornered him in front of the 456 Strand _Ben & Jerry_ shop while Nick was still inside. He told you she had been so tiny and endearingly nervous-looking that he still wondered where she had found the guts to go up to him and breathe out her shy, _'A-are you Kevin from the Backstreet Boys?'_ , her eyes unconsciously turning as big as saucers in the process.

 

He had smiled a genuinely flattered smile at her and held out his hand for her trembling one to shake. _'Yes, I am. Nice to meet you... '_

 

_'...'_

 

_'...'_

 

_'Oh, Clarissa! Nice to meet you, too, Kevin.'_ She had giggled.

 

Kevin also told you that just when he had been starting to find her insecurity a trifle embarrassing for the both of them, she had begun to talk again. _'I'm sure you must be sick of hearing this by now, but I wanted to tell you how special I think you guys are.'_

He had not contradicted her, because he was afraid that, had he interrupted her, she would have frozen on the spot and never gone on saying what she had been meaning to, and because, no, he was not sick of hearing it at all. On the contrary, it was quite refreshing, especially at a time when all of you were still fearing the group might never do better than school gyms and minuscule club gigs. 

 

_'Of course I'm just a fan, but it makes me so mad when some people diss you guys just because the group was'_ \- and you chuckled when he mimicked - although not to make fun of her - her quotation marks, and tried to imitate the annoyance in her voice – _“manifactured”. That’s bullshit! Oops, sorry.'_ Needless to say, she had blushed furiously all over again. _'I--I mean, not only are you such talented singers, but you have this unique bond, like... anyone who's not blind should be able to tell you are *meant* to be. I'd say it's destiny if I believed in that sort of stuff.'_ _She concluded with a nod someone else might have found self-righteous but which hit Kevin in all its honesty, instead._

 

He had thanked her with a tender hug to her small frame and signed her backpack before going back into the shop to retrieve Nick lest he overdosed on _Monkey Wrench_ sundaes.

 

When Kevin told you what Clarissa had said, you were obviously pleased - delighted, even - but, for some reason, it was only now coming back to you, with unprecedented clarity: yes, you are that tight, the five of you. 

 

Clarissa was right: your self-explanatory _chemistry_ is the best retort you could ever mould against whoever denies your credibility as a group on account of the fact that BSB was born in a sterile office instead of a grungy basement.

 

 

All too aware of such chemistry himself, Kevin did not even bother playing dumb to your question. “Oh, sure, Howie. Listen and tell me if it sounds apologetic enough.” He said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “ _'You know, Nick, the reason I hit you is not that I wanted to *slap* some sense into you. More like I want to *slip* something else inside of you and it's driving me nuts.'_ What do you think, huh, D?”

 

'Oookay. Shut up. In case you didn't notice, not Bone, here. So, yeah, that qualifies as TMI.' You grinned. Awkwardly.

'Sorry.' Kevin rapidly added, and a self-conscious hand reached for the nape of his bent neck.

''s okay.' You added softly, before growing serious and quite confused again. 'What I still don't get, though, is why you lost it * _tonight_ *, of all times. I mean, yeah, he deliberately provoked you, yet it seemed sort of... out of proportion. What I’m trying to say is that, well, it's not the first time he says shit like that just to get to you.'

'I found him getting a blowjob from a waiter in the cloakroom at the party.' Kevin blurted out, and, for a nanosecond, you thought Buster Keaton's Great Stone Face had nothing on him.

'Oh.'

 

***********************************

 

The next morning, you were up unusually early.

 

You woke up to Nick scribbling frantically at the small wooden desk under the window, his back to the both of your beds. You could not see his face, but it was easy to picture him running his teeth over his lower lip – not biting, just letting them slide back and forth – in concentration, his pale forehead bathing in the faint rays of late October sun like an avid lizard.

 

You rubbed your face and yawned with emphasis to clue him on your awakening. 'What are you doing up at six thirty in the morning, Nick?'

 

'Homework.' He answered without the slightest token of surprise in his voice. As casually as if you had been awake and chatting with him for half an hour already.

 

You made a show of stumbling out of your bed and hurrying to his side. He laughed in spite of himself as soon as he felt the warm back of your left hand on his forehead and batted it away in mock annoyance. 'I'm fiiine. Stop it, D.' You smiled at him and ruffled his hair, pleased to see the shock from the previous night had faded away.

 

Although a quiet, resigned sadness still lingered behind those deceivingly bright eyes.  

 

 

Three hours later, the five of you were sitting on the spacious black van that was taking you to the studio Andre had chosen for your latest photo shoot.

 

AJ and Brian were sitting next to one another at the front of the vehicle, keeping themselves as entertained as possible with some mindless chattering about a common passion they seemed to be developing: golf. You were occupying the two left middle seats, while, as you had foreseen, Morpheo’s arms had claimed Nick back, hence his napping on the long single seat at the back of the van. Kevin, on the contrary, was more than awake and very engrossed. 

 

Engrossed pretending to read an outdated, wrinkled copy of _National Geographic_ on the seats opposite yours, that is.

 

The thing is, Kevin being as committed to his increasingly rare 'reading sessions' as he is to his professional duties, it was always painfully evident when concentration failed him. Particularly so that time, when anyone with a modest power of observation would have been able to capture the furtive glances he kept sneaking at the limp form lying so close yet so desperately far from him.

 

Of course, by midday, Brian and AJ knew what had happened the night before, too. When Brian had realized he was not going to get a single word out of his Frack's mouth over breakfast and had seen the shell-shocked expression marring his cousin's face, he had put two and two together, taken you aside with an inane excuse and nagged you until you told him what you knew that he did not.

 

And so you did.

 

Sort of. 

 

You didn't exactly lie to him, you were just a little  _economical with the truth_ , omitting the real reason behind Kevin's outburst. 

 

Brian had then proceeded to tell AJ. Not so much for the sheer love of gossip, though, as in the shape of a warning for AJ not to pick on Nick or, God forbid, upset Kevin any more than he already was.

 

Astonishingly enough, AJ complied.

 

Just as surprisingly, the photo shoot went by without a hitch and, by a quarter to three, you were back at the hotel, where an interview session with a dozen journalists kept the five of you - Kevin and Brian strategically settled in one room, you, Nick and AJ in another - busy until seven thirty.

 

***********************************

 

'I don't suppose you feel like joining us tonight? We're gonna grab a bite and check out this club they told Andre about...' Brian asked Kevin as soon as the last photographer and cameraman were done collecting their gear and had exited the cosy parlour.

 

'Thanks but I think I'll pass.' 

 

***********************************

 

'Kaos, go get yourself pimped up so I can teach you how to seduce some Italian ladies.' Even Nick had to smile at AJ's exuberance and bubbling self-confidence.

 

But a quick glance into the blonde's eyes was enough to let you know his answer before he uttered it. 'Thanks, bro, but I'd rather make it an early night.'

 

AJ could only nod and part from the two of you after making plans with you to meet him and Brian in the lobby an hour and a half later.

 

'Nicky, are you sure you don't want me to stay in and keep you company?'

 

'Nah. I'll just play some Nintendo™ and go to bed early anyway. I'm exhausted.'

 

'Alright, then. Feel free to stay in my room, buddy.'

 

'Thanks, D.'

 

'Anytime.' And you left him with a brotherly version of your trademark winks.

 

***********************************

 

The knock on your door came around ten. Kevin received no response whatsoever, so he dragged his dejected self back to his own room, where two of Nick's comic books and a pair of jeans still made a sad, rumpled dune on his bed.

 

He had to have come and gone while Kevin was at the proverbial shop around the corner, though, because his headphones were not there anymore.

 

Unable – or rather, _unwilling_ \- to stand the claustrophobic air the bedroom seemed to be oozing, Kevin suddenly grabbed his wallet and stormed back out. After consulting with Claudio, the concierge of the hotel, for a few minutes, he was led to a room located on the fourth floor, sitting in the middle of which was a shining _Fazioli_ F183. He thanked Claudio for letting him in, took the key from the prematurely balding, middle-aged man with a promise of bringing it back no more than one hour later and took a seat on the stool facing the piano; it, too, was black, topped with a lead grey upholstered cushion. Kevin ran three fingertips on the velvety surface before his long fingers launched their sensual dance on the majestic instrument in front of him.

 

Halfway through the fourth song, a personal rendition of Elton John's _Your Song_ , he was startled by sudden brightness invading the room. He was about to let his temper get the best of him, ready to harass any _unwanted_ intruder, if only verbally, when Nick slid in between the barely open, heavy door leaves and their solid frame.

 

Kevin wished badly he could _unwant_ Nick. 'Oh. It's you.' And it came out half a question and half a statement.

 

Nick hesitantly closed the door behind himself and went to sit on the stool next to Kevin, but his older band mate stood up before he could do that. 'I--I'm sorry.'

 

'Not as sorry as I am.' It’s all Kevin managed to say before stepping closer to Nick; unreadable eyes looked into Nick’s for a split second that felt like eons to him, until Kevin finally enfolded him in his arms. 

 

Breathed in slowly.

 

Kissed his forehead.

 

Nick did not sob. He didn’t even tear up. 

 

He let out a shaky breath and held on until he could feel his own fingertips had imprinted small craters in the thin fabric of Kevin's burgundy shirt, halfway between his broad, protective shoulders and his lean waist. 

 

  
**iii.**

_'...I don't quite know how to say how I feel. Those three words I said too much, they're not enough...'_

 

  
The day after you received the keys of Orlando, you asked Kevin how he was doing. He looked genuinely puzzled when he lifted his head from the newspaper he was reading – this time for real – and blinked twice. 'I'm... fine? How are *you*, buddy?' His face turned all too easily into a familiar mask of concern, echoed by the solid presence of his hand on your shoulder.

 

The year was not over, yet, but you hoped to God that  _He_ would consider giving you a break.

 

  
First Brian's surgery...

 

You have resigned yourself to the fact that you will live to regret the additional strain the four of you, his so-called _brothers_ , put on him by leaving a lot to be desired in the support department, during those fateful weeks of May 1998; no matter how many times he has tried to reassure you that it's ok.

 

_That the five of you are ok._

 

  
Then it was Caroline's turn… and you stumbled and felt as if perilously slipping on 'what ifs' and 'if onlys'; but, somehow, you managed to keep on standing. At some point, devastating grief gave up on trying to sluice out of you and flood every corner and crease of your existence; it settled for the quiet forays you allow yourself into it every now and then and you think you’ll forever be at least mildly dazed by the painful simplicity of it all.

 

 

Your reverie was interrupted by Nick coming to sit beside Kevin. He slouched on the opposite side of the sofa, opened his sketchbook and absent-mindedly swung his legs up until they were covering Kevin's thighs, in a gesture that looked like second nature to you. He did not even bother taking his favourite pair of _Converse_ off.

 

_Of course_ _he won't_ , you smiled to yourself.

 

You saw the way Kevin looked at him and you knew he hadn’t been lying when he’d told you that he really was happy, because he was never some modern Werther crushing under the weight of unrequited love. It may not have been the kind he craved for on his darkest nights, but he has always had Nick in a way that no one else has. And he has known all along.

 

He is the compass to Nick's fleeting core. 

 

 

And, as much as you wished for a fairy tale happy ending for the both of them, you were afraid _that_ would have had to be enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**iv.**

 

_'...forgetting all I'm lacking, completely incomplete, I'll take your invitation, you take all of me...'_

 

Which is exactly why you wondered if you had maybe had one too many the night before, when, on a late morning, seven months later, AJ told you he and Brian had caught his oldest and youngest bandmates making out.

 

With one another.

 

Under the stage during a lunch break from rehearsals, no less.

 

You and Brian let AJ drag you out of the wardrobe and back to the _crime scene_. AJ was practically jumping out of his skin the whole time, trying to feign indignation when he was, in fact, ridiculously excited by this turn of events – in more ways than one, if his quick glance and instant lick of lips directed at Brian were anything to go by.

 

When you got there, Nick was still straddling Kevin, who was, in turn, sitting on a metal step, in a dim corner of the maze-like _underworld_ that was the under-stage area. His head was hanging back, eyes wide shut. Rounded, half-bare arms were tense at his sides, supporting the relaxed weight of Nick's body against his chest; yet Kevin looked anything but in pain. Nick's head, turned away from the three of you, was resting on his shoulder while Nick’s languid limbs encircled the compliant body under his own.

 

It was a most glorious vision, you had to admit, if only to yourself; one that reminded you of those artsy pictures which portray dignified jellyfish embracing crystal clear waters. Which was funny, in a way, because Nick has seldom looked that particular shade of graceful in your eyes. But when he has, you know now, it has always been around Kevin.

 

Suddenly, Brian cleared his throat, something that prompted Kevin to open his eyes.

 

Slowly.

 

Peacefully.

 

Nick did not even flinch. And that was when you knew that they knew.

 

That they were aware AJ had seen them kissing only minutes before.

 

'What the fuck, man?' By the time AJ got to the _'-k'_ , Nick had, however reluctantly, lifted his head from Kevin's shoulder and turned to face – the music? - you, in turn. 

 

Kevin parted lips that were – as AJ must have noticed, too – deliciously wet and obscenely swollen, to offer an answer. 'Um...'

 

'Shut up, you dickwit! I'm talking to him.' He almost squealed, pointing an incriminating finger at Nick. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the smirk Kevin was unable to hide before he gingerly rolled the material evidence in and out of his mouth. 'How long has this been going on, Blondie?'

 

It will never cease to amaze you how fast AJ can go from shocked to turned on to frustratedly protective of Nick, more violently so than you or Brian, even; although it has nothing to do with the kind of love most people (namely, anyone who is not the five of you) would assume as the cause of such a heated reaction.

 

Nick, unperturbed, rolled his eyes. 'Four months..', he smiled almost imperceptibly and turned to place a butterfly kiss on Kevin's now softened smirk. '...eleven days...', he punctuated with another peck. He then lifted Kevin's left wrist to check his watch. '...six hours. Now get your scrawny ass back to the wardrobe, Aje, and let me celebrate my first successful New Year’s Eve resolution.'

 

You winked at Kevin while Brian was putting his arm around AJ's shoulders to deter him from further inquiries on the subject, if only for a few hours. You knew AJ's curiosity would not be that easily quenched and mentally prepared to offer more of a thorough explanation of what Nick had meant by his last remark.

 

It did not take long for the proverbial planets to align, in – you just couldn’t help indulging in the almost oxymoron – puzzling clarity. You were more than a little surprised and only vaguely hurt by the fact that Nick and Kevin's _affair_ – though the word did not sound quite appropriate, not even at such a relatively early stage of their extra-curricular _friendship_  – had been kept a secret, apparently since the very day of your _Homecoming_ show.

 

Thinking back on that night, you started remembering bits and pieces of a distracted conversation you had begun with Nick, which both of you had spontaneously dismissed in the adrenaline rush of the last two minutes before the show.

 

_'So, d'you have any resolutions for this New Year, Nicky?'_

 

_'Nah, I don't do resolutions, D. You know that. 'sides...'_

 

_'Besides what?'_

 

_'I'm too happy today to think about tomorrow.'_

 

Then both of you had had to get lost in a blanket of starry eyes for two hours, and you forgot to confront Nick on his cryptic declaration of glee at a later time.

 

 

**v.**

 

_'...you're cinematic razor sharp, a welcome arrow through the heart, under your skin feels like home, electric shocks on aching bones...'_

 

'It's pretty fucking adorable, if you ask me.' AJ mumbled over a mouthful of his bacon and eggs eight mornings later - and you would never admit it to anyone, let alone him, but you have come to find this bluntness of his almost endearing. You slowly lifted your face from your ever-present cell phone and raised a questioning eyebrow, _pretending to fake_ _interest_ by means of an exaggerated smile.

 

'Care to elaborate?' You threw in a small wrist motion for good measure.

 

'Elaborate on what?' Brian joined you at the round table in your private breakfast room, balancing a glass of orange juice and two bagels on a saucer.

 

'Your cousin and Junior.' AJ offered, with a tilt of his head in the direction of the elevator, having sensed their presence even before the sliding doors actually parted.

 

'Oh, that.' Brian's warm smile and the amused sparkle in his blue eyes made him look much younger, somehow, than his 24 years.

 

You are not usually fond of such blatant clichés, but you could not help grinning alongside Brian at the image of Kevin and Nick's unwillingness to keep one's hands off the other.

 

You could not make out what they were saying to one another, even though they were not bothering whispering. Which made you glad they already felt that comfortable and trustful around the three of you. 

 

Even if it scared you just a little. 

 

Had AJ been sitting where you were, though, he would not have missed the chance to gape shamelessly at Kevin, who was leaning against the leaf-green and ebony ribs of the marble baseboard decorating the immediate outside of the elevator, only half-hidden by a thriving weeping fig; and at Nick, who was moulded to him and placing open-mouthed kisses on Kevin's neck. AJ would have probably told them to get a room, too, while actually enjoying the show. But you were not AJ, so you opted for lowering your eyes discreetly and fumbling with your ever useful phone. 

 

'Yeah, *that*. Am I the only one who hadn't seen this coming, anyway?' AJ's frustrated-bordering-on-pouty look made you try to cover a laugh with a cough.

 

The same laugh Brian did not bother trying to stifle. 'Awww, babe.' He rubbed AJ's bicep and the younger man automatically relaxed under Brian's affectionate touch, despite his efforts to keep up the grumpy façade. 'That's because you have a bit of a low attention span.' Brian finished with a huge grin. 

 

'Guess so.' AJ stood up and started to walk away from the table. 'Though your nipples would beg to differ if only you gave my oh so talented tongue a chance.' He quipped on the way to the coffee stand on the other side of the room, without even turning around; predictably, a shit-eating grin he did not let the two of you see beamed on his face. 

 

Brian blushed like the little choir boy he will always be at heart and you groaned, smacking your forehead in a dramatic gesture. A nasal _‘Oh maaan’_ escaped your mouth and, you wondered aloud, ‘When did this turn into the gay version of _Fame_?'

 

 

**vi.**

_'...and if you have a minute why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go somewhere only we know?'_

 

Of course, _Kevin & Nick_ was not always synonymous with sloppy kisses stolen during elevator rides or inebriating post-show wardrobe sex.

 

As a matter of fact, it felt as if the most unexpected relationship you had ever been privy to had begun and was doomed to come to an end in Italy.

  

_‘This is it’_ , you thought to yourself.

 

It was the ninth of July of 1999 and Kevin refused to get off the tour bus that was parked outside the _Stadio dei Pini_ in this small town somebody had once told you is called Varieggio... or is it Viareggio? Whatever. You screwed it up and greeted the adoring crowd with an awkward _'Hello, Milano'_ , anyway. On second thought, maybe you should have learned to jot down stuff on your hands to remember place-names and pleasantries in foreign languages, too. 

 

Just like Kevin does.

 

Right. Kevin.

 

His excuse for not wanting to leave the bus was that... it was too hot. So, okay, it  _was_ pretty darn hot, but, when you think of the hundreds of girls who had been camping out on the muddy ground outside the stadium for over ten hours and who were chatting and laughing – and cheerfully _singing_ , for crying out loud! – under the same sun, you cannot help wondering if local gossip magazines that had compared Mr. Kevin _I've-lived-in-Florida-for-ages-but-I-have-the-nerve-to-complain-about-hot-weather-in-Italy_ Richardson to a spoiled diva had had a reason to do so.

 

But then you also saw the crossed expression marring Nick's flushed and sweaty face and you forgot all about drama queens. He had just finished giving a bit of a private show – in the shape of a basketball match with Brian – to some lucky fans (and some reckless ones who had climbed up whatever available surface for a glimpse of blond or strawberry hair), but, once again, those eyes did not look tired on account of physical exertion alone.

 

And, really, the only one capable of making Nick look like that – probably second only to his mother, you have come to understand over the years – is Kevin.

 

It started when Nick and Kevin were virtually cornered in the elevator of the “ _Astor_ ” hotel in Viareggio by a particularly extrovert male fan, who invited Nick – although not quite in so many, um, _words_ – to what was apparently a very popular local gay club.

 

Six years of being a Backstreet Boy had taught Kevin all about the Subtle Art of Declining Compromising Invitations, whereas Nick must have been skipping some paramount lessons. At least, that is what Kevin thought when he saw his boyfriend turn up the wattage of his smile and run a flirty index across the young brunette’s chest. _‘_ Yeah, that’d be cool _—‘_ Nick started enthusiastically.

 

 ‘—if we were into that sort of thing. But, hey, thanks. _’_ Kevin amended, giving a light jerk to Nick’s arm, all the while balancing an equally blinding – and painfully fake – smile for their fan’s sake. But the star-struck boy was probably too busy creaming his pants under Nick’s touch to have noticed the lethal glare Kevin had reserved for Nick.

 

***********************************

 

‘What the fuck am I gonna do with you?!’

 

‘Well, you could start with…’

 

‘Don’t even go there!’ Kevin warned, having all too easily imagined the obscenities Nick was concocting in his filthy mind, and promptly put a distance between himself and the leg that was already trying to make its way in between his.

 

‘Relax, man, it’s not like I let him suck me off in a cloakroom.’ For the male bimbo many people thought he was, Nick sure knew which buttons to push to challenge someone.

 

Or maybe just Kevin.

 

‘Yeah, only because _I_ was there, too.’

 

‘That wouldn’t have stopped me had I wanted to.’

 

‘Then what did?’

 

‘I wasn’t interested.’ If Kevin had managed to hide the hurt at Nick’s previous remark, his efforts to let that last brief sentence slide over him were moot. He swallowed and held Nick’s look.

 

‘But you _are_ interested in going to that gay club, aren’t you?

 

‘What if I am.’ The dull, non-question tone of that reply started to drain rather than unnerve Kevin.

 

‘Look, Nick, I’m not trying to pick up a fight, I just want you—‘

 

‘—to be honest. Okay, then I _am_ gonna be honest with you and say that, yes, I wanna go check out that place.’

 

‘There’s nothing wrong with that..’

 

‘Then why the hell are we fighting?’

 

‘If you’ll let me finish...’ Nick rolled his lips into his mouth and pushed his hands slightly towards Kevin as if to signal he was all ears. ‘What if somebody recognized you?’

 

‘So what? I’ll be dancing and having a drink, is all.’

 

‘At a gay bar?’

 

‘If anything, the press will think I’m not only adorable’, Nick grinned, ‘but sophisticated and open-minded, as well,’ he concluded with a smug smacking of lips. ‘And that’ll make good publicity for the group, won’t it?’

 

‘Uh, uh, sure.’

 

‘Kev, what is it? Stop beating around the damn bush and tell me what’s up your ass.’

 

‘I can tell you what I’d like to be there...’ Kevin lasciviously answered in what even he recognized as a gauche attempt at distracting Nick, who, in turn, shushed Kevin just by raising an eyebrow; despite the sudden twinge those few words had caused south of his own border. Kevin sighed and grudgingly complied. ‘I... well... I don’t know that I’m comfortable with you being there with tens of horny guys rubbing against you like cats in heat. There I said it.’

 

After a brief pause he used to mentally shut up the _neener-neener_ jealousy alert which warmed him inside and almost made him blush, Nick calmly replied. ‘Then why don’t you come, too? It’ll be even less suspicious if two of us are there together.’

 

The adultness of his own logic nearly gave him a headache.

 

‘Clearly, you have no notion of the workings of slash fangirls’ minds, baby.’ He gave a soft smile, trying to alleviate the seriousness of his previous admission.

 

Nick just rolled his eyes, slid his thumbs inside of Kevin’s belt loops and yanked his hips against himself.

 

And Kevin let himself be literally bent and metaphorically broken, torn as he was between the lustful maze only Nick could get him that far gone in and the weight of his lover’s earlier words; disguised reasons, that kept sinking in like an out of control splinter dangerously aiming at his heart.

 

He let out Nick’s name in a strangled cry while tears crash-and-burned against his shut eyelids as he pushed against Nick’s hand one last time and came.

 

And that marked the moment in which pride and unprocessed remorse began to abandon their respective sides of the fence and got tangled up in a joined effort to embitter battered hearts.

 

 

**vii.**

 

_'...why would I sabotage the best thing that I have? Well, it makes it easier to know exactly what I want...'_

 

Four months after the gay club fiasco, you were on top of the world. The five of you had managed to snatch a $60 billion partnership agreement from Jive Records and you even won your fourth European Music Award. The one for Best Group, no less.

 

On top of it all, Kevin was named Sexiest Pop Star by _People_ magazine.

 

It was actually Nick who told you, Brian and AJ, flourishing a wrinkled copy of the magazine in his hand; it was even more of a tell-tale evidence of how proud he was, had the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes not been eloquent enough.

 

Only, when he mentioned Kevin’s award, you had to refrain from asking whether your oldest _bro_ had been given the award for Most Stoic, Masochist Sucker, too.

 

The three words being your, Brian’s and AJ’s contributions, respectively.

 

Of course, you had no right to seriously tamper with your bandmates’ love life, especially since Kevin had been the first to sign the silent oath that had turned him and Nick into little more than fuck buddies.

 

But still.

 

Still you could not help but wonder how on earth two people who were so intrinsically part of one another could be just as painfully oblivious to it that they had ended up, more or less consciously, sabotaging the best thing they had ever had.

Then again, they were unaware masters at messing with your heads, too.

 

Or maybe just _your_ head, given AJ’s disarmingly confident analysis of the whole thing.

 

You gave him an _‘Uh... sure?’_ look and nodded dumbly when, in that raw philosophy that you knew AJ was effectively capable of, he explained to you that whatever Nick and Kevin might have had before had turned into _‘a suburban supermarket on a late Saturday afternoon: so squalid in its bleakness that one ends up finding it endearing. Comforting, even’_.

 

Back then, though, you didn’t dwell on what later proved to have been an exercise of surprising insight on AJ’s part.

 

**viii.**

_'...it's not you, it's not your fault, you've got everything I could ever want, and you've always understood my intentions are good and we've been so close from the start, but the furthest distance I've ever known is from my head to my heart...'_

 

Early 2000 saw you busy, among other things, playing Actor’s Studio for the _Millennium TV_ series of pseudo-documentaries you shot for the online fan club.

 

Two hours prior to the Greensboro, NC, show, the five of you were lazing around the venue, basking in the afterglow of a necessarily premature dinner. You were sitting on the beige leather sofa of your changing room, talking Pollyanna’s ear off through your mobile phone and Brian was catching forty winks. Virtually on your lap.

 

Yeah, you would have made one hell of a _shinyhappygay_  cabaret family, had your pop career not taken off.

 

As if to confirm your silly musings and the related jokes you had been exchanging with your sister, you lifted your gaze from your Brian-laden lap to see AJ standing beside the window and looking intently outside, onto the expanding crowd that was quickly filling the arena. He was discussing some details regarding the lighting arrangement with Kevin, who was also standing, right in front of the window and with a far from unpleasant bundle in tow.

 

Nick’s chest and smiling face were pressed against Kevin’s back, his pale arms laid around the older man’s neck in languid - yet somewhat possessive – abandon.

And that’s when it dawned on you that… it wasn’t so much that Nick _laughed_ more when Kevin was around.

 

It was rather like he _smiled_ more.

 

More lazy smiles that spoke of fullness and naughty grins filled with promise, instead of the jaw-hurting plastic ones he had half-made a living on for years.

 

Which inevitably caused you to mentally bang your head against the nearest hardest wall, wondering for the umpteenth frustrated time what the point in whoring his feelings away to the best offerer was; especially when he could have allowed _himself_ – before anyone else – to at least try and chase away the oppressive numbness inside of him, instead.

 

But you knew it was something he was going to have to come to terms with… in _his own_ terms.

 

Not yours, not even Kevin’s.

 

So, with quiet understanding which could have easily passed for placid contempt, you never held it against Kevin when, for months on end, he let himself trudge along with irremissible poison in his heart and scarlet dust running through his veins.

 

 

**ix.**

_'...and when you tell your friends about how we've ended, please, be kind, 'cause you know that I tried... I tried to give you more but you wanted less, I tried to read your mind but I failed the test...'_

 

When Kevin had decided to severe the leash he felt like he had imposed on his young lover, the worst part had been accepting his own weakness, since, rationally, he knew he was not going to lose Nick once and for all, in a melodramatic _coup de scène_ worthy of Hitchcock’s _Frenzy_.

 

Except that it was all one hell of a filthy vicious circle.

 

Because his feeling like a walking contradiction, his failing at playing by the _Brian Kinney_ rules (so, yeah, AJ wasn’t the only one to occasionally indulge in addictive softcore porn), made his head ache under the unforgiving scrutiny of dreaded hypocrisy.

 

Until believing he deserved more and, at the same time, feeling unworthy of Nick’s love – because, deep down, he had no doubts Nick loved him, in his own twisted, not so unconventional way – turned into an unbearable cocktail.

 

And, when few months later Kevin confessed to the _Rolling Stone _™__ reporter that, on several occasions, he and Nick had come to blows – in a sensibly different way from the one AJ’s snicker suggested and for which Brian kicked his ankle – he did not lie.

 

 

Three days after the madness that had been the _Into the Millennium Tour_ ended, thus giving you the chance to catch your breath, the five of you vowed not let yourselves be vacuumed into such an insane schedule.

 

Ever. Again.

 

Countless months of live shows above interviews, piled up on press conferences and all sorts of tv appearances, had taken their toll on all of you. So much so that there had been days when even just seeing one another first thing in the morning had had the ability to make your skin itch and want to scrape it off just to be able to throw it at one other.

 

March 18, 2000 had been one of those days.

 

Mature deliberations on the need to give each other space were exchanged between Nick and Kevin, which made it unthinkable for you to expect Kevin to go through, until the bitter end, with his decision to call off the benefits part of his friendship with Nick.

 

And marry his elusive girlfriend of five months.

 

What you had expected, though, was Nick letting Kevin go with as much kicking and screaming as he had been able to muster in his juvenile refusal to surrender to a defeat he had already signed up for less than a year prior; all by himself, no less.

 

As sorry (and worried) as you felt for Nick and his disquieting lack of self-confidence, the usually lethargic cynic in you thought he sort of deserved what Kevin was doing to the both of them. Even so, you had to make sure your older friend wasn’t doing it for the only wrong reason you could think of.

 

‘Just promise me you won’t make the mistake of doing this just because you think of your time as more worthy than his, ‘kay?’

 

‘It’s quite the opposite, D. Quite the opposite.’ He conceded for all answer.

**x.**

 

_'...I am a hostage to my own humanity, self-detained and forced to live in this mess I've made, and all I'm asking is for you to do what you can with me but I can't ask you to give what you already gave...'_

 

Nick looked at Kevin chatting wearily – if only in his eyes – to a male friend of Julie’s and, for the millionth time that day, he wondered what had possessed him to the point of actually making him go to the wedding that had just been celebrated.

 

He dwelled on the painfully fresh memory of two hours earlier, before the beginning of the ceremony, when Kevin had fixed Nick’s tie with a diligent and just as tender gesture; then thought of how cliché an eleventh hour confession would have been. How his secretly bleeding silence could easily become _the new black_.

 

But in the end, he just thought… fuck it! He put on a blinding phoney smile, walked up to where Kevin and Jason – Josh? – were standing, excused himself and the newlywed under the pretext of a special present for Julie he wanted to discuss with Kevin and dragged his ex lover to the bride’s dressing room.

 

Like a compliant prisoner under the spell of the Stockholm syndrome, Kevin let Nick press desperate lips against his own.

 

No grinding of hips nor groping of hands to distract them from the decadent sublimity of their kissing. Just their two mouths, achingly dry from having craved this back for far too long… way too much, and nothing else.

 

There was no such thing as the typical explosion of colors when their embarrassingly adolescent orgasms hit them; only dense, fluorescent drops landing on the pitch black ground of their eyelids and dilating like circles of water brushed by a stone.

 

 

**xi.**

 

_'...doesn't it scare you, your will is not as strong as it used to be?'_

 

Late October came and, by then, no member of the extended Backstreet family – not even Julie herself, who had proved to be exceptionally zen about the whole thing – was willing to believe that nothing sexual was going on between Nick and Kevin.

 

Except you were all wrong.

 

After their frantic kissing in the wedding closet, the closest they had come to touching each other had been their almost-hand-holding while shooting the video for _Shape of My Heart_ and Nick’s actual grabbing of Kevin’s hand to drag him back into the studio on the set itself.

 

After all, shoulder-to-shoulder whispering and meaningful glances stolen on a ferry boat in Rose Bay, Australia, a month later didn’t have to mean anything, did they?

 

Either way, a bitterer AJ didn’t find them adorable anymore.

 

He was now of the opinion that they needed _‘to get their fucking minds out of their asses because this_ “The Party” _shit is making me sick.’_ Of course, you didn’t deprive Brian of the pleasure of nagging AJ about his familiarity with one of the sappiest – and foreign at that! - movies of all time.

 

You didn’t find them adorable, either. But neither did they cause your glycaemia to skyrocket like, apparently, AJ’s did.

 

You were simply sitting and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

 

  

 

 

 

**xii.**

 

_'...I listened to your album and I watched your favourite film, hey hey hey, I missed you today... we used to watch the world walking by... I made your favourite dinner and I wore the shirt you love, hey hey hey, just in case you came... and have you seen the world walking by?'_

 

The first time you erroneously thought such a time had come was when AJ checked into rehab.

 

Nick was an emotional wreck, and the hand he’d half-slashed against the mirror in a mixture of frustration, anger and fear, when Kevin had decided to finally confront AJ, only added to the portrait of misery he had turned into.

 

In his despair, Nick had once again found a kindred spirit in his ex lover and it would have been all too easy to try and fuck their mutual sadness away, but, where Nick had never been that terrified in his life, Kevin was overcome by a familiar anguish, akin to the kind he had suffered over the course of his father’s illness; and that was enough to push all thoughts of sexual outlets far from his tried mind.

 

At least as far as Nick was concerned.

 

He had enough trouble sleeping as it was, under the weight of guilty feelings bred by the hard words he’d spat at AJ. He didn’t need to run the risk of ruining Nick’s life, too, _thankyouverymuch_.

 

So he did what he had to do.

 

He literally slept in Nick’s bed for six days in a row, letting the younger one comply this seemingly cathartic ritual where he would sob himself to sleep against Kevin’s chest every night and, only after Nick was sound asleep, he, too, would tighten his eyelids until they hurt before he let hot, fearful tears run down his cheeks.

 

Finally the somewhat strained end of the _Black & Blue _tour came and with it a sense of exhausted detachment.

 

The fact that, this time, you could not all blame it on Kevin's fits of perfectionism, or on Nick being in full prankster mode and sticking Shangai-shaped crackers up your nose or pods up Brian's (because, at that point, even he was too bone-deep tired to do anything more than sleeping, drinking and fucking around) was what ultimately convinced you that any option other than parting ways indefinitely would have meant grasping at straws.

 

In spite of how much you all loved one another… _because_ you loved one another so much, you owed yourselves some space to miss your brothers and remember where all the love had stemmed from in the first place.

 

 

**xiii.**

 

_'...so, let go, yeah let go, just get in, oh, it's so amazing here, it's alright, 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown...'_

 

The second time you suspected certain, um, habits?, were too hard to die was around two years later.

 

The instant high of being _brothers on a hotel bed_ all over again had momentarily dwindled and sleep had crept in, so you, AJ and Brian left Kevin’s room to its owner; and to Nick, whose eyes hadn’t left Kevin for longer than thirty seconds in a row all night, you recalled with a half-amused, half-worried shake of your head.

 

It turned out your assumptions were once again ungrounded, though, because the next morning, over his ridiculously sweet coffee – _and Kevin doesn’t have to know, okay?_ , he made you promise – Nick told you nothing _like that_ had happened. 

And you believed him.

 

 

**xiv.**

 

_'...have you no shame, don't you see me? You know you got everybody fooled. Look, here she comes now, bow down and stare in wonder. Oh, how we love you, no flaws when you're pretending... without the mask, where will you hide? Can't find yourself lost in your lies...'_

 

And then there was Paris.

 

There was unusually bundled up Paris at _Sundance Festivals_ and there was typical scantily clad Paris… just about everywhere else.

 

But the worst part was that there was also Paris on birthday cakes, suspiciously surrounded by reporters of all sorts. And that’s when she officially made it onto Kevin’s black list, really.

 

Of course, the rest, in all its catty radio interviews glory, is history.

 

Just as much as Nick breaking down in front of paparazzi and Kevin protectively shielding him away from them.

 

Ironically enough, Kevin chose that exact occasion to let the shoe that had been on the brink of dropping… actually drop.

 

(And bring off a couple of shirts along with it.)

 

Ironically, yes, because looking back on it now, both Nick and Kevin would tell you that late July night wasn’t nearly as traumatic as any other day when, say, you had been terrified by the prospect of losing AJ to his addictions or Brian to his heart failure.

 

And yet Nick’s frustrated tears and pseudo-compulsive eye-rubbing were enough to let Kevin’s resolve shrivel up and die only a few minutes after they had managed to shake off the vulgar obtruders and make it back to Nick’s house.

 

Sure, Julie had left in 2002 (not out of jealousy but because she had realized Kevin was too high maintenance even for a fundamentally hippie soul as hers) and the lack of hard feelings between them had eased Kevin’s conscience in the long run; but he never would have bet a single lousy buck on the chances of the scenario of which he was now the protagonist coming true.

 

And maybe that was part of the reason why he was having so much trouble standing up, even sandwiched against the kitchen counter as he was -- exhilarated by the sight... the scent... the closeness of him, when Nick came with his upper lip scrunched up in an almost grotesque fashion, his teeth pressed against Kevin’s prominent cheekbone.

 

 

**xv.**

 

_'...baby you're a glitter doll on the radio, I dissolve in the stereo, you've got me, you've got me coming back for more... pop princess hold my hand, pop princess I'm a fan, pop princess I need you now, freak me out, turn me inside-out, pop princess make me smile, pop princess drive me wild, pop princess I need you now, so baby turn your love up loud...'_

 

Predictably, the affair between Nick and Paris wrapped up in the most pathetic way possible, but if there was something good to be found in the whole disgraceful débacle, it was that it gave Nick and Kevin a cosy nonchalance to nestle back in together.

 

So much so that, black lycra and _Barbie_ ™-like wigs playing their part, they eventually fell prey to their old wicked ways once again on an otherwise ordinary Thursday afternoon.

 

Nick leaned his left side against the mirror that covered the upper walls of the elevator, and let his eyelids close down in a slow motion that was not lost on Kevin.

 

‘You’re so fucking hot dressed up like that.’ Kevin said, purposely keeping at a distance from Nick and crossing his arms on his chest. Nick’s darkened eyes snapped open and, much to his own surprise, Kevin thought he saw a flash of crimson creep up Nick’s cheeks, only to suddenly disappear. And seeing how they’d finished filming for the day almost one hour earlier, the flushing could not exactly be chalked up to Nick’s exuberance while shooting their delirious video for _Just Want You To Know_.

 

‘Mm-hmm, I love it when you get a foul mouth.’ Nick said, licking unusually shiny lips. ‘So you think I look hot, huh?’ His half-intrigued, half-sheepish smile was enough to let Kevin know that Nick thought the older man was just innocently flirting with him and he was okay with that.

 

For all answer, Kevin slid closer to Nick, moving Nick’s feminine locks to his back and running both hands down the younger man’s neck. Nick titled his head back, inadvertently pushing the ridiculously tight spandex which was still cladding his hips against Kevin’s in the process. Kevin groaned and let his arms slip off Nick’s warm shoulders onto the cold mirror; the clashing of such opposite sensations caused him to blindly reach for the emergency button and alt the elevator. ‘After all, I’m the one who wrote the treatment for the video. How smart am I?!’ He grinned.

 

‘You shouldn’t have changed, either. I always wanted to bone _Jem & The Holograms_ when Leslie watched the damn cartoon.’ Nick, although already half-breathless, managed to snicker.

 

‘Perv.’ Kevin’s amused pupils roamed over Nick’s mischievous grin and rested on his eyes for several seconds, before he took Nick’s lips in a passionate daze of kisses and nibbles.

 

‘Fuck you.’

 

‘Oh, I’m gonna fuck _you_ alright.’

 

‘You?! Fuck _me_ in an elevator? Yeah, right.’ He barely had time to snort before Kevin had him out of his pants and underwear, with his right leg creeping up to wrap around Kevin’s waist in an all too natural reflex.

 

Kevin started to lick Nick’s invitingly exposed collarbone, then up to his neck, meanwhile sewing a trail of purplish little moons and causing Nick’s head to trash and smudge eyeliner all over the mirror and over Kevin’s temple as well.

 

‘Mm-nguhh.’ Nick groaned in a mixture of frustration and excitement. ‘Kev, the make-up girls are gonna fucking kill me when I show up with a necklace of hickeys tomorrow. You’ve gotta sto—OH, GAWD!’

 

‘Who gives a fuck, babe?’

 

‘Hopefully you.’ Nick quipped, having caught his breath again, despite Kevin’s startling – however welcome – invasion of his body.

 

‘God, I love you.’ Kevin managed to grunt in between pressing up into Nick and holding him as close as possible to his own body to prevent them both from falling; although Nick’s perfectly aimed pulls on his dick made it a task worth of the whole _Mission: Impossible_ trilogy.

 

‘Methinks, you spend too much time with our resident Bible Boy.’

 

‘Do you really think I need’, *moan* ‘to be thinking of’, *pant* ‘my cousin’, *groan* right now?’

 

‘I don’t know. You tell me.’ Nick punctuated the incestuous innuendo with a feathery bite on Kevin’s neck.

 

‘Ff-fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you fiend.’ Kevin’s thrill resulted in an unintentionally deeper thrust into Nick, which caused him to sloppily bite his own lower lip, then arch into his lover and bang his head against the mirrored wall.

 

Not hard enough for either of them to care, anyway.

 

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

 

Twenty-six gasps, twin groans and two shuddering orgasms later, they had collapsed on the floor, Nick’s bent legs obscenely spread for Kevin to lie in between while still inside of him.

 

Kevin pushed down on his arms, each one placed on either side of Nick’s head, to obtain some leverage and look down at his newly-found lover.

 

‘Not to be blaspheme, but it’s *you* I was worshipping. And now it’s *your* turn to be telling me something I don’t know, _Goldielocks_.’ Kevin added in a whisper, and a lazy smile sent liquid beads bouncing up in his dark eyes.

 

‘How about… you don’t get to do this with anyone else but me from now on?!’'

 

‘Are you threatening me??’

 

‘More like proposing, _Pumpkin_.’

 

Nick’s words had come out with a vaguely hysterical quality to them, but his smiling lips saw to soothing it with an eager smack against the other man’s half-open mouth.

 

Kevin fought the embarrassing traitor smile that was creeping up his face and compromised on a lopsided grin. He then paused and put on a sarcastically concentrated expression. ‘Is this where you expect me to bray our very own _‘Yes I Will’_ and vow my eternal love to you??’

 

‘Fuck you, you totally ruined the moment. And you better serenade me, yes.’ Nick made a lousy attempt at pouting, but he couldn’t help joining Kevin in his full, happy laugh.

 

‘Ah, you’re too much, Carter.’

 

‘If this is a mean joke about my weight, Kevin, I swear—‘

 

Still laughing, Kevin shut him up with a deep kiss.

 

 

**xvi.**

 

_'...where's the world that doesn't care, maybe I could meet you there...'_

 

It wasn’t long before the renewed tenderness with which they would act around one another for the rest of the _Never Gone Tour_ started to draw more and more enthusiastic attention from the same slash fangirls you had all inevitably joked about at some point in your career as an all-male band. 

Which, in turn, started to worry your managers, who didn’t hesitate to confront Kevin about this latest source of concern.

 

Needless to say, Kevin accepted to take it upon himself to talk to Nick about it.

  

‘Are you serious, Kev?!? Brian can go and fucking jump AJ in the middle of a goddamn show and I can’t even hold your hand?!’

 

‘It’s not the same, babe, and you know it.’

 

‘You’re right, it’s not. Brian isn’t the one who’s in love with a frigid asshole who’s always complaining when his boyfriend tries to show him how much he wants him.’

 

Kevin sighed, having learned not to let Nick’s sharp tongue enrage him, even if he hadn’t managed to learn not to let it hurt, too, in the process. ‘All I’m saying is you might want to try and... I mean, just the other day those three fans almost caught us making out in the coatroom because you told me you’d seen them leave after the meet ‘n’ greet—‘

 

‘Tsk, like you didn’t enjoy that!’

 

‘I’m not saying I didn’t... God, I did. So much,’ Kevin amended, letting their foreheads touch and caressing Nick’s right temple, ‘but they need us to be more careful.’

 

It was Nick’s turn to sigh. ‘I-I’ll try?’ Even though the word _careful_ made his stomach drop for a second.

 

Kevin nodded, still too gravely for Nick to get rid of his already heavy heart.

 

‘What now?’

 

‘Um, actually there’s something else Johnny wanted me to discuss with you..’

 

‘..…’

 

‘He, um, thinks that we... well... that we could...’

 

‘Kevin, what the hell? You’re making me fucking nervous!’

 

‘He thinks we might want to consider... dating somebody else – as well as one another, of course, as long as we do that discreetly – at least until touring is over. To, you know, keep it all down a little bit...’

 

Nick’s face, which had softened under Kevin’s gentle touch, clouded over and he took a step back, putting the length of his arms between himself and Kevin, although his hands kept a weak grip on the other man’s forearms. He put on a hard, sarcastic smile. ‘*Keep it down?!?* You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’

 

When Kevin remained silent, Nick nodded. ‘Well, in that case, you can start dating a fucking harem, for all I care. ‘Cause this is _me_ breaking up with you.’

 

Nick didn’t know what hurt and angered him more: the fact that, ironically enough, the one time he had stopped giving himself away had been the one time he’d felt the most used and unwanted, or the fact that Kevin hadn’t even tried to chase him back.

 

 

**xvii.**

 

_'...dance, dance, we're falling apart to halftime...'_

 

‘You have to promise me you’re not going to say what I’m about to tell you to anybody else. Not even Brian or AJ. And definitely not Nick.’

 

‘...’

 

‘Howard…’

 

‘Ouch, first name. This must be serious.’

 

‘Yes, smartass. It is.’

 

‘Alright, Kev. I promise.’

 

‘Good. Because… I’ve decided I want out.’

 

‘WHAT?!?’

 

Kevin only nodded.

 

‘But why??’

 

‘Because I feel like I’ve given Backstreet everything I could and now I need to expand my horizons and pursue other personal projects.’

 

‘I didn’t mean the ‘’why’’ you’re going to bullshit the press and our fans with.’ You deadpanned.

 

‘Howie!’

 

‘Don’t _Howie_ me! Come on, spit it out. I think you owe it to me. To all of us, but, yeah, I’ll keep my mouth shut until you’re ready to let the guys know.’

 

‘Thanks, D. Well, I wasn’t totally lying. I mean, that’s part of the reason I want out, but you have to trust me on this and let me go with no more questions. I’ll tell you, I promise. Just… now’s not the time, ‘k?’

 

‘Mm-hmm.’

 

‘Is that a yes?’

 

You took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, whatever. When are you giving an official statement?’

 

‘As soon as all of the professional commitments we’ve taken as a group have been fulfilled.’

 

‘What about Nick?’

 

‘What about him? We haven’t been together for three weeks.’

 

‘Exactly.’

 

‘I’m going to tell him soon enough, don’t worry.’

 

 

**xviii.**

 

_'...my heart is numb, has no feeling, so while I'm still healing, just try and have a little patience...'_

 

There was a strange aroma in the grey Oslo air when _soon_ came. A smell of freshly sharpened pencils and ripe bananas, a tad sweetish yet not entirely unpleasant.

 

‘Is this because of me?’ Nick asked, confusion and hurt causing him to grimace in a pained way he had only ever directed at Aaron when his younger sibling would exasperate him with his least innocent antics.

 

‘No... and yes.’

 

‘B-but who’s gonna kick my ass for sneaking into _McDonald_ ’s with AJ to buy myself fries when I’m on a diet?!’ And a desperate, broken laugh escaped Nick’s mouth.

 

‘Please don’t. Don’t make this harder than it is.’

 

‘Is it because of the drinking and the fucking around I’ve been doing?’

 

‘Yes.’ And the twisted in himself filled Nick’s stomach with butterflies that were made of the jealousy he had hoped to kindle in Kevin. ‘But it’s not for the reason you think.’ Kevin half-lied, shattering all of Nick’s hopes like an unforgiving wiper blade would dry leaves on a dirty old car.

 

Obviously, the mere mental image of Nick filling someone else’s body was enough to make Kevin want to scratch his eyes out, even without considering the sickening possibility of a stranger being inside what had once been his and his alone. 

Yet there was more to his decision of leaving behind thirteen years of himself. 

Yes, even more than their management threatening to kick Nick out of the group if he - who was apparently more expendable – didn’t leave of his own will after the whole gay-relationship-in-a-boyband near-fiasco.

 

‘The thing is... I’m not your father, Nick.’

 

‘See, this is where you’re wrong. ‘Cause you *are* my father. You are my father, my mother, my brother... my best friend. You’re the whole goddamn package! And I wish you could see it, too.’

 

 

**xix.**

 

_'...I see you look at me when you think I'm not aware, you're searching for clues just how deep my feelings are...'_

 

And maybe he has.

 

It might have taken Kevin a ridiculous amount of time, an ungodly seventeen years of _sweat and blood and tears_ ; of farcical marriages and soap-operish reality shows; of stubbornness and denial…

 

But he has.

 

And he wants to believe that if he ever starts forgetting that, he’ll be reminded by the memory of this very moment, the memory of Nick sleeping curled up against his side, the velvety pulse of his heart so deep Kevin can feel it throbbing on his hip.

 

 

 

**THE** **END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> The quotes at the beginning of each paragraph belong to the songs I've included in my NicKev FanMix, which you can download (or request when the current link expires) here: https://me-and-thee.livejournal.com/11631.html#cutid1.


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